Adventures at Snowshoe

Dream Come True

Really do have the desire to consistently post here as much and as often as I can. Now, that statement explains nothing, but it sure lives up to my middle name, Vague. Another label slapped on me is I’ll Get Around To It…just takes too long to say. Eventually, I do get around to things, so perhaps I should explain about my adventures at Snowshoe. It’s a good story, so maybe you’ll forgive the absence and enjoy the read.

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Received a most wonderful gift recently, some good luck. Although a good friend of mine likes to proclaim that he’s the luckiest guy in the world, I think I just topped him, if only for a week. To render differently something Bob Dylan said, I’m lucky this week…next week, it’s back to the blues.

Anyway, my wife’s sister and her husband offered me a bonafide once-in-a-lifetime opportunity the level of which I will never be able to reciprocate or adequately show my gratitude. They have a townhouse situated on top of a mountain in West Virginia. The mountain? Snowshoe. Yep, a real, honest to goodness ski resort. In May. You see, I don’t ski. My next-door neighbor has a video of me from years ago trying to stand up on roller blades. Maybe it’s being left handed, but free falling down the side of a mountain would only break my bones.

During the month of May, Snowshoe Ski Resort is empty, I mean empty. Oh, there were locals moving about doing repairs and cleanup. There were street sweepers sweeping the parking lots and sprucing up the place to get ready for a new season. There are summer activities, but in early May, I was literally, spiritually, and unequivocally the king of the mountain. I’ll admit, this was no primitive camping venture. Even most of the wildlife seemed to avoid this particular mountain, but for me, the time was special.

You see, I retired last year after 43+ years of working. More than that if you count my time at the Edgewood Printing Press. Working there was one of the great learning experiences of my career, but that’s a different story. I was an English major in college and whatever stubborn and uninformed opinion possessed me, I had no interest in becoming a teacher. As such, I had to sell myself, work hard, and constantly endear myself to management on what I could produce. Learned long ago to lay low, keep my nose to the grindstone and let my work speak for itself.

The result of all this dedication was in becoming indispensable to those around me. One-man shop for most of my career, often tied to the top tier of management. Essentially, I helped the big wigs look good…a job that went from difficult to damn near impossible throughout the years.

After the heart attacks slowed me down, I started to admire the sunrises and sunsets a lot more. Took another seven years of hard work for me to finally hang it up, but last year it finally happened.

When the suggestion to use the mountain retreat as a well-earned retirement gift came along, I was ready. Peace and quiet avoids me and I was bound and determined to go up the mountain to find it. At my wife’s loving encouragement, we planned my getaway.